


cutting deep

by altilis



Series: careful, ren. [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 09:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altilis/pseuds/altilis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-TFA. "If you disagree with my orders, Ren, why don't you go to the planet yourself and clean up this mess?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	cutting deep

**Author's Note:**

> From a tumblr anon: "angry hurt comfort Kylux style ^^ tending to wounds. being stupid (and in love)." Hope this works for you, anon.
> 
> Also, the visual dictionary of TFA describes Kylo Ren's costume: "Cape singed from multiple battles."

"If you disagree with my orders, Ren, why don't you go to the planet yourself and clean up this mess?" Hux snaps at Kylo in the middle of his meeting with Phasma and the other division leaders. Everyone looks from him to Kylo, waiting for reaction, violence, maybe another argument for the rumor mill - and then Kylo stands, pushing back his chair.

"I will," he says, and then he walks out. The door slides shut behind him.

Hux forces himself to sit down, then turns to Phasma at his right. "Go after him; make sure he doesn't get killed."

\--

Hux has heard of the prowess of the Knights of Ren and what they can do, how they can murder and burn and steal, but Hux has never considered how much of that is Kylo Ren alone. By the time Phasma's ship finds Ren's on the outskirts of the city, the shields are down, the buildings are burning, the streets are littered with rubble and gore, and the central tower sends up thick black columns of smoke into the air.

They find Ren crouched by the river upstream of the city, thumbing through a pile of old books and papers by the light of a double moon, the edges of his cape singed and his boots muddied, but otherwise fine.

That's what Phasma reports to him. Hux wonders, not for the first time, what kind of creature he's hosting on the _Finalizer_. (Hosting, as if he has a choice, this is the biggest ship in the fleet and Snoke won't give Kylo Ren anything less.) He takes a short dinner in his office, checks the plans for the next two cycles, and then leaves his office -- heading straight for Kylo's quarters.

He stands for a moment at the metal door, and waits: he knows Kylo is in his quarters, and if he only stands here for a little longer, Kylo will know he's here, too.

(If he closes his eyes, sometimes he imagines Kylo's power reaching out to him, dark thoughts probing his mind, as if there's something Kylo doesn't already know.)

The door hisses and swings open. Kylo's spartan furnishings make it easy to see he's not there: not at the small table, not on the twin cot masquerading as a bed, not on the strangely out-of-place hammock slung by the expansive window, a frayed burlap remnant of a past Hux can never ask about.

Hux steps through the room, looking about the furniture, and as he looks down towards a pile of papers and books under the hammock he sees wet spots on the floor: large, dark splatters that trail towards the next room and in the light shine red.

His hand tightens behind his back, and his first thought is: don't panic.

_Don't panic?_

Following the blood trail, Hux steps into the threshold of the next room, stops, inhales sharply. 

This was intended to be a private office, Hux believes, with its smaller windows and square floor, shelves up and down one wall and a communication console on another, but Kylo has transformed it into a still, sacred space: there’s a single half-backed chair and a single low table at the center of the room under one working bulb and two broken ones. Under this light, Kylo sits with his back to the door, shirtless, a great jagged wound wraps over his shoulder, and it bleeds a little with every slow exhale.

"Ren, you fool," Hux breathes, "do you expect that to heal on its own?"

"I do."

Hux crosses the room to move around to Kylo's front, and he sees the open med pack on the floor: bandages, dermal regenerator, sponges, and a cloudy round jar filled with a strange yellow oil, all lying as they would if the medpack were dropped and opened upon impact.

Kylo tilts his head back to look up at Hux, who stares back. "Well?" Hux demands.

"I need this pain," Kylo says to him, deadpan, his eyes cold and serious.

"Don't be ridiculous," Hux nudges the medpack closer with the tip of his boot. "Heal yourself. I won't have anyone on this ship disabling their own capabilities."

"Not yet."

Hux backhands him across the face; he's surprised it lands. He's surprised he’s still alive and has time to speak. "Is that enough pain for you?"

A muscle twitches in Kylo's jaw for a moment, and then he looks back up at Hux, a damnable smile curling at the edge of this mouth. "I won't use the regenerator," he says. "You'll have to dirty your own hands."

"I could have you dragged to the medical bay."

"You could have the rest of your doctors killed the same way."

Kylo lifts his hand and rolls his shoulder slowly, an obscene display of muscle and control despite the pain: the wound stretches and bleeds a little more; Hux scowls, and he looks down at the regenerator, but then casts a glance towards the door over Kylo's shoulder.

"There's no one coming," Kylo's voice rumbles low, sounding almost like it does with his mask, but the softness confines it to the space between them.

Hux crouches down to pick up the regenerator, stands, and dials through the settings. When he settles on a power, he kicks the rest of the medpack out of the way, and steps close between Kylo's knees. His other hand fixes on Kylo's other shoulder, keeping him still and steady. Kylo's skin is hot beneath his palm, the muscle hard and solid.

"If you weren't the Supreme Leader's favorite, I would have you declared insane and cleansed from our ranks, especially after this incident." Hux holds the regenerator over Kylo's wound, each pass slow and deliberate from Kylo's sternum to his scapula. As he speaks, Hux ignores how Kylo raises his hands and his touch wanders up along Hux's thighs, the sides of his hips, under the hem of his jacket, brushing over the hidden pistol hanging from his belt. "Then you couldn't plague this ship with your mystical nonsense, this masochism of yours--"

"You're afraid of the blood," Kylo says, eyes closed as the wound knits together--slowly, as deep as it is. "You've never seen it so close."

"That's absurd, I've watched your interrogations."

"When it's another man's blood."

Hux pauses, staring down at him, and Kylo opens his eyes to meet that gaze. His eyes are dark and deep and for a brief, frightening moment Hux feels as if he's falling, the rigid order of the universe shearing in time.

"Don't," he whispers. Kylo grins, maniacal, then drops his gaze, focusing on the Hux’s polished belt buckle. His hand leaves Hux's hip, and his fingers follow Hux's fixed arm up to his elbow, curling over the joint. Gripping. (He's still so strong, too strong, but Hux doesn't stop the regenerator.)

"Are you done yet?"


End file.
